


Five Times Enjolras Almost Proposed to Grantaire, and Twice He Did

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 02:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9695519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: The title really says it all. Enjolras is hellbent on proposing to Grantaire during their trip to Paris. Naturally, all of his plans go awry.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For [ionlyrunfromshame](https://tmblr.co/mLfl_4KOoFd6CBKX1f48fHw), who wanted a fluffy established relationship fic. And this is about as fluffy as it gets.
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

Grantaire bounced on the balls of his feet, barely able to contain his excitement as the line into the Louvre inched forward. “So I know I’ve said it like a bajillion times, but I really appreciate you coming here with me.”

“It’s not like it’s a hardship for me to spend time with you on our vacation to Paris,” Enjolras said, amused. “I may not be as into art as you, but there’s some great pieces in the Louvre — Delacroix’s Liberty Leading the People; Meissonier’s The Barricade, rue de la Mortellerie, June 1848; Vien’s The Triumph of the Republic...I could go on.”

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Grantaire looped his arm through Enjolras’s and leaned his head against his shoulder. “Naturally, I should have guessed where your interest would lie. Just promise me you’re not going to pull a Bastille reaction and start crying.”

Enjolras scowled at him. “Look, it was our first night in Paris, I had had a bit too much wine at _your_ insistence, I would remind you, and it’s an _emotional_ part of history.”

“Sure it is,” Grantaire said, grinning. “Hence why you were balling like a baby at the mere sight of the Colonne de Juillet.”

Enjolras gave him a sideways glance, his own smile returning, softer and wider than before, and with his free hand, he felt in his pocket to make sure that the ring box was still there. He had planned on proposing to Grantaire ever since they had started planning this trip to Paris, and he figured that there would be no better place to propose than someplace that Grantaire had always wanted to visit: the Louvre.

Of course, the thought of proposing to Grantaire made Enjolras a little nervous — not that he thought there was a chance Grantaire might say no, but he didn’t want to mess up what should be one of the happiest moments of their lives.

So it was with that slight trepidation that Enjolras followed Grantaire into the Louvre, allowing Grantaire to grab his hand and pull him through the crowd. He knew that he wanted to propose in front of the Venus de Milo (though part of him desperately wanted to propose in front of the Code of Hammurabi due to its importance as one of the earliest examples of a constitution, including contract law, which was basically all marriage was anyway, but he somehow thought the symbolism would be lost on Grantaire), and as they made their way through the Prints and Drawings collection and wound their way through Egyptian Antiquities toward the Greek, Etruscan and Roman Antiquities, Enjolras could feel his heart start speeding up and the palms of his hands became sweaty. 

As they approached the crowd surrounding the statue, Grantaire let out a little gasp. “There it is,” he said, something close to awe in his voice, and Enjolras gulped, reaching into his pocket and closing his hand around the little box. “Jesus,” Grantaire said softly, and Enjolras looked over at him, surprised.

“Are you _crying_?” he asked.

“No!” Grantaire said, a little too defensively. “I just...I’ve always wanted to come here, to see this, to see all of this. And I never really imagined…”

He trailed off, and Enjolras wrapped an arm around Grantaire’s waist, pulling him close. “Hey, it’s ok,” he said, his voice soft. “I get it. It’s _emotional_.”

Grantaire scowled at him. “Are you really trying to compare this to you at the Bastille?” he asked. “Because, dude, this is a priceless antiquity that is an incredible example of the Hellenistic period, and the Bastille isn’t even there anymore!”

“And the Colonne de Juillet is a testament to those who fought against the power of the monarchy and those who would keep power from the people,” Enjolras retorted hotly.

“And the July Rebellion led to the July Monarchy which still promoted the bourgeois ahead of its own people!” Grantaire said, though he was smirking slightly, clearly taking amusement from their bickering.

Enjolras shook his head, irritated. “Yes, but that’s hardly the point,” he argued. “The results don’t minimize what they were _trying_ to achieve, which is what’s really important. And anyway—”

“Hang on a second,” Grantaire said sweetly, pulling out his cellphone, taking a step back, and taking a quick picture. “Perfect. Alright, carry on.”

Enjolras frowned at him, distracted from his rage spiral for a moment. “Wait, what the hell was that about?” he asked.

Grantaire fluttered his eyelashes at him and took Enjolras’s arm again. “Nothing you need to worry about,” he said, pulling Enjolras away. “Just maybe don’t check Instagram or Snapchat for the next few minutes.”

Instantly, Enjolras pulled his phone out and opened Instagram. “A vengeful Apollo with Aphrodite?” Enjolras read incredulously, looking up from the picture Grantaire had taken of Enjolras with the Venus de Milo statue in the background. “Really?”

“I couldn’t let the moment pass without making at least one reference,” Grantaire said with a smirk. “Besides, as amazing as the statue was, there’s only one marble sculpture I need in my life.”

He leaned up to kiss Enjolras’s cheek, and though Enjolras swatted him away, he was smiling. 

And it wasn’t until a few minutes later that Enjolras realized he had completely forgotten to propose.

* * *

“God, isn’t this view amazing?” Grantaire sighed, leaning his head against Enjolras’s shoulder as they looked out from the top of the Eiffel Tower.

“Yeah,” Enjolras said, though he was looking at Grantaire, not the city. “Amazing.”

Grantaire sighed happily. “Seriously, remind me when we get home to thank Bossuet for recommending that we try to time going up the Tower with the sunset. Watching all the lights come on in the city…”

He trailed off, but Enjolras nodded with understanding. “Yeah, it’s incredible. Although I’m glad that we planned it that way and didn’t completely forget about the most famous landmark in Paris until the very last night of our trip, unlike Bossuet, who had to wait in a four hour line and only just made it on the last elevator up.”

“Well, it worked out for him in the end,” Grantaire said, grinning. “Just like it’s worked out for us.”

Enjolras felt a lump in his throat and he fumbled in his pocket. “Grantaire,” he said, a little breathily, “Grantaire, I wanted to ask this earlier in our trip, but really, I don’t think there’s anywhere better—”

He was cut off by the sound of applause and cheers, and they both looked around for the source. “Aw, look at that!” Grantaire said, his grin softening. “Someone just got engaged!” 

Sure enough, another couple across the Tower platform was kissing, the massive diamond on the girl’s finger glimmering in the fading light. “Are you _fucking_ kidding me?” Enjolras muttered before he could stop himself, and Grantaire twisted around to give him a bemused look.

“Problem?” he asked.

“Of course not,” Enjolras said instantly, smiling at him. “I just, uh, I think it’s a little tacky. Getting proposed on the top of the Eiffel Tower.”

Grantaire nodded thoughtfully. “Fair enough,” he said. “I’ve seen better proposals. Been part of them, too.”

Enjolras snorted. “I’m sure you have,” he said, pressing a kiss to Grantaire’s temple and mentally vowing that he’d find a place to propose before they left Paris, if it was the last thing he did.

* * *

The waiter brought the bottle of champagne to their table and was courteous enough to fill their glasses, which was good, because Enjolras was pretty sure his hands hadn’t stopped shaking since they sat down. “Are you feeling alright?” Grantaire asked, giving him a strange look. “You’ve been quiet all evening.”

“Me, quiet?” Enjolras asked lightly, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. Just hungry. Really looking forward to my duck confit.”

Grantaire hummed contentedly. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he said, propping his chin on his hand and staring off into space dreamily. “I’m so looking forward to...whatever it was I ordered.”

“You don’t know what you ordered?” Enjolras asked distractedly, trying to gauge what moment would be best to pull the ring out and finally propose.

Shrugging, Grantaire grinned at him. “I don’t know, I just pointed at something. Besides, I don’t think I translated the menu properly, because what I think it said is definitely not what I ordered.”

Enjolras tilted his head slightly. “What do you think it said?”

“Pretty sure it was, like, tête de veau, or something like that. Which, you know, my French isn’t great or anything, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t actually mean cow’s head.”

For a moment, it looked like Enjolras was trying not to laugh, but then he composed himself. “It doesn’t,” he told Grantaire, before adding, “It means calf’s head.”

Grantaire looked horrified. “So, wait, I’m going to literally get the head of a baby cow on my plate?” Enjolras nodded, biting his lip to keep from laughing at the look on Grantaire’s face. “I’m a monster!”

“Of course you’re not,” Enjolras reassured him, twisting around in his seat to see if he could find the waiter. “You can order something else, I’m sure, and—”

As he twisted, he accidentally knocked the bottle of champagne with his elbow, which wobbled before spilling directly into Grantaire’s lap. “Oh my God!” Grantaire wailed, jumping to his feet. “Dude, this is such a party foul!”

“Dude, that was a 30 euro bottle of champagne!” Enjolras snapped, standing and trying to blot the champagne with his napkin.

Enjolras and Grantaire simultaneously seemed to realize that Enjolras was rubbing Grantaire’s crotch in the middle of a crowded restaurant, and they both took a step back, Enjolras blushing, Grantaire grinning. “Want to get a bottle of wine and go back to our hotel?” Grantaire asked.

“Hell yes,” Enjolras said, pulling out some cash and leaving it on the table before grabbing Grantaire’s hand and pulling him out of the restaurant.

Behind them, the older woman who had been sitting next to them shook her head and pursed her lips disapprovingly. “ _Américains_ ,” she pronounced, as if it was a dirty world.

* * *

Clearly, Enjolras couldn’t propose on the same night Grantaire had almost eaten a baby cow’s head, which unfortunately left only one last night in Paris to finally propose to Grantaire, and frankly, Enjolras was getting a little desperate. 

“If you were going to propose, where would you take him?” he asked Combeferre over Skype while Grantaire took a shower. 

Courfeyrac grabbed Combeferre’s cup of coffee and took a sip before suggesting, “What about that one place, that, like, bridge with all the locks?”

Combeferre gave Courfeyrac a look before retrieving his coffee cup. “The Parisian authorities removed the locks from that bridge in 2015. There’s no point going there now.”

“But it’d be symbolic,” Enjolras said slowly. “And isn’t it the thought that counts?”

“Yeah, if you forgot to bring a gift to your cousin’s birthday party, maybe, but this is a proposal,” Combeferre said.

But Enjolras was no longer listening, already planning it out in his head. It would be perfect — a moonlit stroll, they could sneak a lock onto the bridge together, and after they threw the keys in the Seine, he’d finally get down on one knee and give Grantaire the ring he was getting really tired of carrying around in his pocket.

And at first, everything went exactly according to plan. Grantaire and Enjolras strolled toward the Pont des Arts, and Enjolras grinned as he showed Grantaire the padlock he had “borrowed” from the front desk of the hotel. Grantaire took it and laughed. “You really want to do something this lame?” he asked, wrinkling his nose. 

“It’s not lame,” Enjolras protested, pouting slightly. “What’s lame was the quashing of free speech by the authorities who thought that it was somehow defacing historic property.”

“It was,” Grantaire said, raising an eyebrow at him. “The bridge was gonna collapse under the weight of those stupid locks. And it’s not like this was some tradition you could trace back generations — it started in, like, 2008. The authorities made exactly the right call.”

Enjolras narrowed his eyes at him. “So you’re telling me that you would gladly sacrifice free speech and the free expression of eternal love just to kowtow to the man?”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “You _know_ that’s not what I mean,” he said patiently. “Just...if you wanted an eternal symbol of love, there are much better ways to do it.”

For a moment, Enjolras just stared at him, then he sighed and laughed lightly. “You’re right,” he said, a little mournfully, shoving the ring box back inside his pocket. “There are better ways to do it. I’ve run out of any I can think of off the top of my head, but…”

Grantaire laughed and kissed him. “C’mon,” he said, lacing his fingers with Enjolras’s. “Let’s go back to the Bastille and make out so intensely we get asked to leave again.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but grin as he followed Grantaire.

* * *

Enjolras slumped moodily in his airplane seat and stared out the window. “Are you alright?” Grantaire asked, sipping the complimentary champagne that came with their first class upgrade. 

“I’m fine,” Enjolras sighed. “Just...not ready to leave Paris, I guess. There was something else I wanted to do.”

Grantaire looked down at his watch and shrugged. “Well, you’ve got, like, fifteen minutes before we officially leave Paris, so, if you can accomplish it in fifteen minutes…”

He trailed off with a grin, clearly assuming that whatever Enjolras had wanted to do was sexual, but Enjolras perked up slightly. “You’re right,” he said, turning to face Grantaire and smiling. “We’re still in Paris.”

“Yes we are,” Grantaire said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “So I’ll go to the bathroom first and then in about two minutes you can join me, and—” He broke off when Enjolras set the ring box on his tray table. “What the fuck is that?”

“It’s an engagement ring,” Enjolras said patiently, opening the box to reveal the gleaming platinum band within. “Because Grantaire, while we were in Paris, I wanted to ask—”

Grantaire was gaping at him, and only barely recovered the power of speech. “Are you kidding?” he croaked, staring at Enjolras as if he had grown another head.

Enjolras frowned. “No,” he said, feeling a little hurt. “I thought that we were in a place where we could take that next step together, but if you don’t want to…”

“What, no,” Grantaire said, shaking his head impatiently. “That’s not at all what I mean. Of course I want to marry you. That’s why I said yes when you asked me to.”

Enjolras stared at him. “When I asked you to?” he repeated. “When did I ask you to marry me?”

Grantaire was smiling in a weird way as if he couldn’t quite tell if Enjolras was joking or not. “The very first night we were in Paris,” he said slowly. “Remember? You had a _little_ bit too much wine, which I maintain is not my fault, by the way, because you’re even more of a lightweight in Europe than you are back home, we went to the Bastille, you cried, and on our walk back to the hotel, you got down on one knee and asked me to marry you.”

He could barely finish the story because he was grinning and blushing, and when Enjolras just stared at him blankly, Grantaire’s smile faded slightly. “Do you honestly not remember that?”

“Actually, no,” Enjolras said slowly. “Besides, if I actually asked you to marry me, why do I still have the ring?”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow at him. “Because you didn’t give me the ring,” he said. “I didn’t even know you had bought a ring. I thought it was, like, super spontaneous. Not that I’m mad that it wasn’t,” he added hastily. 

Enjolras shook his head slowly. “And you said yes, even without a ring?”

Grantaire grinned again, clearly amused. “You and I have talked about getting married pretty much ever since we started dating,” he said simply. “You think I would need a ring or a big dramatic proposal?” When Enjolras looked uncertain, Grantaire sighed and nudged him affectionately. “All I ever needed was for you to ask the question.”

“Oh,” Enjolras said, feeling a little foolish, and he looked down at the ring. “Well, in that case, so that I can something of our proposal to remember at least — Grantaire, will you marry me?”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “I mean, I already said yes once. What am I going to do, say no this time?”

“So is that a yes?” Enjolras pressed, not willing to let Grantaire out of answering.

“Of course,” Grantaire said, grinning. “100%, absolutely, yes.”

Enjolras grinned and kissed him for a long moment before fumbling with the ring to slide it onto Grantaire’s finger. “I love you,” he told Grantaire.

“I love you, too,” Grantaire replied, his smile gentle as he looked at Enjolras. “And now you realize we get to have celebratory airplane sex instead of just normal airplane sex.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Do you ever not think about sex?” he asked. “I mean, we _did_ just get engaged.”

“ _You_ might have just gotten engaged, but I’ve been engaged for a week now. I’ve had time to get used to it. Besides,” Grantaire added, leaning in and winking at Enjolras, “give me ten minutes in the bathroom with you, and I’ll take your mind off of the fact that we’re engaged.”

Enjolras looked down at the ring on Grantaire’s finger, grinning stupidly. “We’re engaged,” he said, like it was just dawning on him. “We’re getting married.”

Grantaire sighed. “That is generally what happens when you ask someone to marry you,” he said, but when Enjolras couldn’t stop grinning like an idiot, he sighed and kissed Enjolras’s cheek. “I love you.”

Enjolras grabbed Grantaire’s hand and squeezed it. “I love you, too.”

Grantaire leaned his head against Enjolras’s shoulder, lacing his fingers with Enjolras’s. After a long moment, he asked, “So is that a no to the airplane sex, or…?”

And Enjolras just laughed.


End file.
